1 April 1643
While I've been gone, Kitty's grown into the kind of woman who takes care of her village. She doesn't like midwife work, but she does what our mama did. She takes care of people. Now the Vantases are living with us, because they don't have a home anymore. Kitty told me they turned up on her doorstep, Kankri only half-awake from hunger. She said she couldn't let them go hungry. Of course she couldn't. I can't either.
I've been trying to go hunting and help, but everything feels heavy. Kitty can tell. She told me that she'd be fine and I should just rest up. I feel sick. I'm not sure I could hunt if I wanted to, and all I want to do is lie in bed and never move again.
What have I done? If I ran back and begged, would he take me? I lied. I lied to my husband, who I promised to love, and I let him think I couldn't give him the one thing he needs more than anything else. If I confessed, would he take me back, take pity on me? Or would he cast me off, again? I don't know if I could stand losing him again.
He hurt me so badly, and I shouldn't want to go back to him, but I do. I love him and I miss him. He made mistakes. We all make mistakes! I lied through my teeth! I…I don't know. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep.
4 April 1643
I went for a walk today. I can leave my house whenever I want and I don't have to tell anyone. I still left a note for Kitty, though, since she's been worrying about me for so long, so she would know. I can still tell time by the sun, so I knew when to come home.
I just walked. I went down to the creek and put my feet in the freezing cold water until it hurt, then until it stopped hurting again. I forgot how much I love the woods. I grew up here, playing pretend that there were fairies in the knots in the trees and mermaids just out of reach in the river. There's a spring that starts this creek, a secret place that only Kitty and I and our mama knew about. We used to go on adventures to there, pretending it was a fountain of youth. I grew up in this forest. How could I ever have left? How could I ever imagine having children who would grow up not allowed to climb trees? I pretended to myself that I could change my husband's mind and that my children could have both things, an education and time to be themselves, but I was wrong. He would never have changed his mind for someone so trivial as me.
8 April 1643
I had one of my headaches yesterday. Kitty brought me some tea with the pain medicine in the blue jar, and it helped a little, but mostly it just let me look at a candle without crying. I could hardly eat and my stomach was turning terribly, so I spent all day in my room being useless. I wish I could do more. My little sister shouldn't have to support me.
I guess I will have the headaches for the rest of my life. We have laudanum in the house–I've always kept a little bit around, just in case–but I don't want to need it again. I feel sick enough as it is. I'm so tired, and I can hardly keep anything down. Last time I stopped the medicine I had these problems, so I know I just need to push through the pain and sickness, and it will fade. I know this, but it's still hard. The worst part is that I'm so tired, all the time, but when I lie down and close my eyes, my heart is pounding and I'm shaking and I can't stop thinking. I can't stop being afraid.
Kitty had breakfast waiting when I woke up. She's been so kind to me. Today I was at least able to help. While she was sorting herbs and humming to herself, I sat with her and helped her sort. At least I can still hear when people hum or sing.
9 April 1643
Kitty asked me about my headaches while we were working out in the garden. I want to make myself useful, so I went out with her to help her prepare the garden for spring. And it did feel nice to work in my mother's garden again.
She got my attention by waving. "Meulin," she said. She hasn't called me Linny much since I came home the first day. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me, but the headache you had…I'm just worried. Do you know why you had it?"
I didn't know what to say for a long moment. Part of me seized up at the question because I know the truth and I couldn't tell anyone in the castle. Anyone else asking that question I'd have to lie to, no matter how kindly they meant it. So I managed, "I've been having them for some time now."
"But do you know why? I'm…worried you might be sick."
I gathered all my courage and reminded myself that this was Kitty, my sister. She would never tell anyone and she would never hurt me. "I do. Um…the night I lost my hearing, I also, um…hit my head. I've been having headaches ever since. They're not as bad as they were, but…I don't think they'll ever really go away."
She paused just long enough that I knew she was turning things over in her head. She's not stupid. I'm sure she's worked out some of what I'm not saying. "Is there anything I can do?"
"The pain medicine helps. I don't know. I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what else to say.
"It's alright. You don't have to be sorry."
"I am anyways," I said, and I felt the tears welling up, so I turned back to the weeds to hide them. I realized that I wouldn't be able to tell what she was saying to me, but I didn't want her to see me crying from just saying how sorry I am. I don't think I'll ever be sorry enough. I don't think I can be.
13 April 1643
I went for another walk today. This time, I went to the graveyard. I wanted to go alone this time. Kitty and I have most often gone together, but this time…it just felt like something to be done by myself.
The walk was just like I remembered, even if the trees are a little taller. I probably could've walked there with my eyes closed. The forget-me-nots were just starting to come into bloom, a few little blue blossoms guarding my mama's grave. The grass felt good under my feet, and the wind felt good on my face. It made me feel like myself for a moment.
When I made it to the graveyard, I sat in front of Mama's grave and for a long time, all I could do was cry. I miss my mother. Isn't that pathetic? Twenty-three years old and I just want my mama.
Even if she was still here, she would be so disappointed in me. No mother would want a daughter like me. There are mothers who want their daughters to marry rich, and I managed to mess that up. There are mothers who want their daughters to be happy, and I certainly haven't managed that. And my mother raised me so I would never have to rely on a man, so I wouldn't end up in a situation where I couldn't leave. She tried her best to keep us safe and protect us from the kinds of men who would hurt us, and I went and got myself in that kind of situation anyways. She'd be ashamed to have a daughter like me.
17 April 1643
Kitty asked me today if I thought I could help Annes with her pregnancy.
"I think she'd appreciate a midwife," Kitty said. "And I know Horuss would like your help."
"I…I'd like to help," I said. "I'm not sure I can. It's been a few years."
"I think you could do it. You're good at being the midwife. You always were, ever since Mama started teaching you."
"I need to be well to take care of other people, and I'm not. What if I have one of my headaches when she goes into labor?"
"You don't have to," Kitty said. I could tell she was trying to be gentle, and it meant a lot. "I just thought it might be nice to go back to that. It's important to you."
"It is," I agreed. "I'll talk with Annes and tell her how I am. She can tell me if she wants me to help her. And I suppose if I can't, at least they can afford a physician."
"I'm sure she will."
I wasn't, but I didn't want to say that. I suppose I'll ask. I doubt she'll want my help, since she has many better options. But I might as well ask. If she does want my help, even knowing what's wrong with me, I'll give it to her. I was the midwife, and I want to believe I can be again. It's what my mother taught me, and I want to go back to it. I just don't know if I can.
20 April 1643
I thought about going to visit Horuss and Annes, and I got as far as putting on my boots before I backed out. The idea of walking all the way to their home and then having to walk back because they didn't want to see me was too much. So I wrote, instead. I'm not sure they'll be able to read it because of how much my hand was shaking, but at least I wrote something. I said hello, and told Horuss I was sorry for how I treated him, and asked Annes if she would like me to be her midwife.
I hope Horuss can forgive me. He was one of my closest friends and I completely abandoned him for no good reason. Of course he didn't like me like that, and of course even if he did he never would've tried to interfere with my relationship. How could I let my husband talk me into thinking such things? I know I don't deserve it, but I hope Horuss can forgive me.
24 April 1643
Horuss wrote back to me. He said he would love to see me, and asked me to come over to talk with Annes about her pregnancy. The thought of going there makes me feel sick. I know I should, and I don't want to abandon Annes if she needs help, but I'm so nervous. And I'm so tired that it feels like a million miles away. Their home might as well be across the ocean for all I feel like I can go there.
I've been tired a lot lately. I know it's hard to stop the medicine, but I didn't think it would take this long to go away. I was sick this morning and only barely made it outside, and I can't stop shaking. My head aches all the time, even when I'm not having one of my bad headaches. The medicine we use for people getting their bleeding helps a little, but it's not always enough.
I want to take the laudanum. I know it's bad for me, and I know I shouldn't want to, but I do. It just all hurts. My body hurts, of course–besides the headaches, I have an ache deep in my bones that makes me feel like the old people who feel the rain in their knees–but my mind hurts more.
I'm trying to get back to normal. I've been gaining some weight back and trying to eat regularly, and to make small talk with my sister and the Vantases at meals. Taking walks helps, and so does reading, but everything is so difficult. Why is everything so hard?
28 April 1643
Nepeta's been teaching Kankri and Karkat to read, apparently, and today I saw Kankri in the library holding a book.
"You read?" I asked.
"I'm learning," he said.
"That's a hard one to start with," I said. "I could get you a different book if you like. Maybe one of the ones I learned on?"
"No, I'd like to be able to read this," he said. "Your sister says it's a philosophical treatise on poverty and wealth in our country."
"Someday I'm sure you'll be able to, but you can work up to it," I said. "I probably couldn't read that until I was seventeen."
"We are both twenty-three," he said.
"When I was seventeen I'd been reading for ten years," I pointed out.
"I need to practice somehow," he said. "I might as well sharpen my mind with something worth reading."
"Everything's worth reading."
"I don't know about that," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"I've read some bad books, but at least I learned what makes a bad book."
"I'd still rather read a good book," he said.
"How about I read it to you?" I said. "Isn't that how you learn?"
He made a face, but I suppose he knew he couldn't read it on his own. "Alright."
So, the book held between us, I read until my voice hurt about poverty and wealth. It was all very complicated and high-minded, and I wouldn't have chosen it for myself, but Kankri seemed to like it. I think people are wealthy because they're lucky and because they're cruel. No one kind would look at the Megidos or the Nitrams or the Captors and demand their money.
29 April 1643
I'm trying to help, so today when my sister was cooking I went down to join her.
"Can I help with anything?"
"No, I don't think so. It's just these, and then let it cook."
"What were you singing?" I asked. I can still hear the singing.
"One of Mama's old ballads. The one about May Collin. I was only humming it, anyways."
"I can still hear that," I said. "I can feel the vibrations."
"Do you remember that one?" she asked, looking at me like she wasn't sure I would.
"Of course," I said, because I do. Mama loved that one. "It was one of her favorites. She said it was one of the better stories about women she'd ever heard."
Kitty smiled at me and said, "I should call you May, instead of Linny." She was trying to make me feel better, but it made me feel much worse. I'm no May Collin.
"Why on Earth would you do that? May Collin was tricked, and she was smart." No one tricked me. I walked right into that mess with my eyes open, because I was stupid. If I were as smart as the women in stories, this wouldn't have happened.
"So were you."
"I wasn't," I said. "I was just…stupid."
"I don't think you were. Linny…I didn't know either. He tricked all of us, and then when you realized you were in danger, you outwitted him and came back home." She sounded so sure. Of course she did. She's my little sister–she looks up to me. She still thinks I'm the older sister who has all the answers, who makes up the rules of the games and knows all the paths in the forest.
"I don't know. There must have been something. Someone else, someone smarter, they would've noticed something. If our mother was still here…" I trailed off, not sure what to say. Our mother would've known.
"She'd be happy you're home," she said.
"She'd think I was an idiot."
Kitty didn't say anything for long time. She ddn't do anything else, either–she put the knife down and just stared down at the last of the vegetables she was cutting.
"Don't talk about her like that," she finally said, and she sounded almost angry. "Our mama loved us. She would never, ever, have thought that."
I didn't know what to say to that. I think…Kitty is right. Our mama would never have been so cruel. How could I imagine her saying something like that to me?
"I suppose not. I don't know. Do we need any bread?" I couldn't think of what else to do or say. I wanted to apologize, or help, or something, but I hardly knew how to start.
"No, Kankri's been making the bread lately. He's good at it."
"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?" I just wanted to help, somehow.
She looked at me for a moment like she could see right through me. It reminded me of our mama. "There are plenty of dishes that need cleaning," she said. "You remember the rule."
"Whoever cooks doesn't clean. Fair enough." I tried for a smile, and got about half of one. I suppose it was enough, because she smiled back at me and finished chopping the potato in front of her.
She's right. I can't believe I'd accuse my mama of saying something like that. I'd never tell a woman whose husband was cruel that it was her fault, and our mama certainly wouldn't have. Maybe she would just be happy I was home.
2 May 1643
I've always liked May. Mama found me in April, but we went back for Kitty in May, and it was May when I was well enough to start living again. I felt like a tree that first May, like a tiny green bud on the end of a branch, just starting to grow. It was the first time I remember thinking about my future and what I'd do next, besides get married off. The world opened up to me and everything felt new and exciting.
But now, just like then, I'm still getting better. I was sick again this morning, although I made it outside again so Kitty doesn't have to know. She's worried about me enough without all this from not taking my medicine. My body still aches all over, although lately I think my knees have been a bit better. I'm still awfully tired.
Now, like then, I am getting better. My knees are better and I'm sleeping more deeply. I wish I could keep down food or walk more than a mile, but I suppose these things will heal with time. I hope so, anyways.
5 May 1643
I saw Kankri in the library again trying to read, so I read aloud from another of our philosophy books for an hour or two. It was…nice. I didn't have to do anything, and if I'd stopped, I know Kankri would've just kept at it on his own. I wasn't frightened that he'd be upset with me if I stopped, or that he might lose his temper if I said something wrong. It was nice to be with someone who I wasn't scared of, and to talk with someone without feeling like I had to watch every word I said.
After reading, he said he had to check on the bread and went to knock it back, so I went for a walk. I've been taking a lot of walks these days. Partly it's because then if I'm sick, I'm by myself and I won't make a mess. Mostly, though, I just missed these woods. It sounds silly, but there's a maple tree halfway to the river that was my favorite climbing tree when I was small, and I missed that tree. I'm too old to be climbing trees for fun, but who was going to see me? The bark was rough on my palms and I realized the calluses I had as a child were gone. I kept at it anyways, and when I got as high as I could go, I could see my whole world–the thin silvery creek, the rushing blue river, the places where the treetops dip for the clearings, the smoke from the chimney of my home.
It was hard to climb down and go back home. I love my home, but something about being up in a tree made me feel free, like I could go wherever I wanted and no one in the world could stop me. But I felt sick again and I didn't really want to be sick up a tree, so I climbed down and went back home.
9 May 1643
I think I'm coming down with a spring cold, or maybe it's just that I haven't been taking the medicine. I had one of my headaches yesterday and today, while I felt a little more coherent, I couldn't stop sniffling. Kitty mixed me up something for a cold, which seemed to help, but between that and my eyes running I must've looked a mess. When she first saw me this morning, Kitty thought I'd been crying.
Oddly enough, I haven't been crying very much. I thought I would, after all the crying I did when I was first home, but right now I just feel like lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. I barely dragged myself out of bed this morning. I'm not sure why I bothered. I'm no use around the house in this state, and I can't be the midwife right now. I thought about going for a walk, but didn't have the energy. I felt sick to my stomach, but luckily didn't throw up, since I didn't have the strength to walk outside.
For a little while there I was feeling better, but now I feel so…heavy. It's like I'm dragging around buckets of water on every limb. It's good I'm back. It's good that I'm here in my home with my sister, and that I'm free. I know it's good, and I know that I should be happy, and I don't know why I'm not. I don't know what's wrong with me. Why can't I just be happy?
14 May 1643
I had another headache yesterday, and it felt like dying. I thought I might die for a few moments in the afternoon (at least, what I think was the afternoon). KItty brought me water and broth, but I could barely keep down the water, much less the broth. I just buried my face in my pillow to block out the light and the noise and tried not to cry, because crying made it worse. It was hard to move. I was so freezing cold, even under all my blankets, and somehow I was still sweating. I felt terrible.
I have never wanted my medicine so badly. I wanted to take some laudanum and take away the pain, just not feel like this anymore. If I took the medicine, I'd forget how I can't be happy like I should be and how stupid I am and how I ruined my life and how it'd probably be better if I'd never come home. It would just feel so much much better.
I still don't feel particularly well today, sore and stiff and nauseous. These headaches seem to do that–they take a few days to fully go away. I couldn't pull my head together enough to even read, much less help around the house. I wish I could be useful. I wish I wasn't like this.
16 May 1643
I didn't want to worry my sister, but I also don't want to make her life harder. So today I asked her to put the laudanum away.
"Kitty?" I asked once Kankri and Karkat were out of earshot. "I need to ask you a favor."
"Of course," she said.
"Could you…could you put the laudanum away? Somewhere I wouldn't find it?"
She nodded, but her eyes were worried. "Is everything alright?"
"I…when the headaches are bad, I…" I wasn't sure what to say. "I want to take it, but I shouldn't. It's…very tempting."
She frowned a little, but said, "Alright. I'll put it away. If…if you want to talk about it, you can just ask."
I nodded, but didn't say anything. Partly because I thought I might cry if I did, and partly because I thought I might vomit, and I didn't want to do either of those in front of my little sister. I could tell she was worried, but I needed to be on my own, so I finally managed, "I'm going to go for a walk."
She nodded. "Well, have a good walk."
"Thanks."
I didn't end up vomiting, luckily, but I did cry a little. She's worried about me, and I'm worried about her, and I don't feel well. My ankles hurt, and my chest hurts, and my head hurts. I didn't walk far because my legs ached too much, and I had to sit down to rest before I could go home. I wish it wasn't so hard. I wish once I'd left that everything just went back to normal, and I felt normal again. I wish it didn't hurt so much.
20 May 1643
I've been thinking about it ever since Horuss wrote me back, and today I decided I was going to see him and Annes. I was so scared when I laced up my boots and told my sister where I was going. I hesitated at the door, even, but I reminded myself that Horuss helped me, and Mr. Zahhak promised Mama he'd take care of us.
I was still shaking the whole way there. It's a small miracle I didn't run into anyone I know; I might've fallen over on the spot with surprise. When I finally got to their house, which isn't all that far away but felt like a hundred miles, I could barely summon the strength to knock properly.
Horuss opened the door, and he smiled huge. "Meulin!" he said. "Come in! Annes just made biscuits."
I followed him inside to their table, where Annes was wiping her hands on her apron. She looked up, then smiled softly. "Hello, Meulin. It's nice to see you."
"It's nice to see you too."
"I just made these–shortbread. I've had a taste for them."
"That's typical for pregnancy. Cravings like that, I mean."
She nodded. "So I've heard. Let me get the tea and then we can talk."
I nodded and sat quite still, feeling unsure and out of place. They were being so kind and I didn't deserve it. I hardly knew what to say.
"How have you been?" Horuss asked.
"I've been alright," I said. "And you?"
"Quite well." He nodded towards Annes.
"I've been as well as can be expected," she said. "All things considered. You know how it is, with a child."
"I do," I said, trying to smile. "You wanted me to help?"
"Yes, I would," Annes said. "Horuss has told me you're very good at what you do. He says you've helped his father when he was sick."
"Yes, I did," I said. "My mother taught me everything she knew, and she learned from her mother-in-law. I do…I did want to tell you that I haven't done this work in a couple of years, and that I'm not particularly well myself."
"You aren't?" Horuss asked. "What's wrong? Do you need anything?"
"I'm just a little sick," I said. "I've been having these headaches, and when they're bad I'm not good for much. If I were to have a headache when you went into labor, I'm not sure how much help I'd be."
"How often is that?" Annes asked.
"Maybe once a week."
"Does your pain medicine help?" Horuss asked.
"A little bit, sometimes."
"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything we can get you?"
"No, I'm alright. Thank you, though. Annes, is that alright?"
"I'd still rather if be you than anyone else," she said.
I blushed a bit at that. "Thank you. Do you know how far along you are?" She's only barely showing, at a guess four months, but she'd know better than me.
"I think four months," she said. "It's hard to be certain."
I nodded. "Of course. Horuss–would you mind? I think perhaps we should talk in private."
He nodded and left, so it was just Annes and me.
"How have you been feeling?" I asked. "The first few months can be rough."
"I'm feeling better," she said.
"I'm glad to hear that. I'm going to ask you a lot of questions, and they might be very personal. You have my word that everything you say to me is held in strictest confidence. I may discuss some things with my sister because she helps me, but she would never tell. You can always tell me if you don't want to answer, of course, but please know I'm only asking so I can help you."
She nodded.
"Are you vomiting?" I asked.
"Not anymore."
"Have you been having any heartburn?"
"No."
"How are your teeth? Your gums?"
"Well, my gums have been sore…"
I went through everything I ask, head to toe and everything in between. It may have been a little while since I've done this, but I guess it's hard to forget when you've been doing something so long. I finished with, "And on a happier note, have you felt kicking?"
"Perhaps? I don't know what it feels like."
"It feels…unique. It might feel like being nauseous, or like a sort of…fluttering sensation in your belly, down low, or like bubbles, or like tapping from the inside."
"I don't think so," she said.
"You probably will soon. Since this is your first and you don't know what to expect, it's harder to notice right away."
"I hope so," she said.
"It'll be soon," I said with a smile.
That was all I had to ask that was private, so we invited Horuss back in and just caught up for a little bit. We had tea and shortbread, and we just talked. I still felt a little uncomfortable, because I don't feel like I deserve to have Horuss and Annes being so kind to me, but I tried not to show it.
I only stayed for a couple of hours, because I was tired. I think Kitty could tell when I got home. She made me a cup of the tea we use to help people calm down, and brought out some of the good butter to have with bread. Kankri makes very good bread.
I'm exhausted. I should go to sleep.
23 May 1643
Kankri and I read together again today, which was quite lovely until I had to run outside to throw up. I didn't even have time to say anything, so of course, being a decent person, he followed me. I barely made it outside before I felt like I was turning inside out, crying from the burning in my throat.
"My goodness, Meulin, are you quite alright?" he half-shouted.
"I–I'm alright," I coughed, once I could. "I haven't been well."
"Clearly. Isn't there something you can do? Your mother knew herbal remedies and such, and so did you."
"I've tried," I said.
"What about your sister?"
"She doesn't know."
"Your mother didn't teach her?"
"No, I mean, she doesn't know I'm sick like this."
"Why on Earth not?"
"I don't want her to worry."
He opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, thought, and said, "I…I understand. I would advise you to tell her, but if you would prefer to keep it to yourself I understand. I do find, however, that sharing one's troubles with one's family can ease their burden, and often they can offer advice."
"Thank you," I said. "But I'll keep this to myself for now. Kitty doesn't want to be the midwife, and I'm not going to put this on her."
He again started to say something, but stopped. "I think…I believe my brother would have rather I told him I wasn't well before our situation grew so desperate."
"Well, what happened to you wasn't your fault."
He started and stopped several times after I said that, and finally settled on, "If you need anything, just ask."
"Thanks."
He went back inside, luckily, and I was left to recover by myself. Of course Karkat would've wanted to know, but their father's death and debts were not their fault. What happened to me, and why I'm sick now, is my fault. I don't want to worry my sister with something that's my fault.
27 May 1643
There is a terrible worry in my gut right now because I have been sick to my stomach and it's not getting better. My joints don't ache quite so badly, I've been sleeping a little better, and I've been able to get warm again, but I'm still sick to my stomach. I'm not shaking anymore, but I am still tired most of the time. The last time I felt like this, I was pregnant.
I'm so scared. What am I going to do if I am pregnant? I–I can't be. I should get my bleeding soon. I've never had more than a couple of months between bleeding times. I'll get it soon and I'll know I'm not pregnant, and it'll be fine.
It's so unlikely. I had enough trouble getting pregnant in the first place, and I lost enough babies without trying. There's no way I'd be pregnant now.
It's just because I'm taking care of Annes now. Sometimes when I take care of someone I start worrying I have whatever they have, even if it's something I can't get. My mother said that happens when you're already tired and stressed, and then your mind just picks the first thing in front of you to worry about. I only think I'm pregnant because the thing in front of me right now is Annes and her baby, and I'm so worried about doing a good job with her baby. It'll fade, just like the rest of the times I've felt like this.
30 May 1643
I think I'm gaining a little weight back. When I take–took–my medicine, I never had much of an appetite. I still don't want to each very much, but I try so Kitty doesn't worry. My face looks less skeletal and my ribs are somewhat less prominent. It's a good thing, I suppose. People are skinny when they're unwell, and I was not well. Maybe this is a sign I'm getting better.
This is silly, but I miss looking like my mama. Ever since I was little, people have told me I looked remarkably like her. I remember looking at the old pictures of her that her friend drew and thinking we could've been twins. I don't look so much like her with my waist so thin and my cheeks so hollow. I always took comfort in that. It just made me feel like I belonged here, with her. I know she would've loved me no matter what I looked like, but it still felt warm and comfortable.
I just went to go get those pictures and look at them again. My mama is smiling in all of them. There's one of her when she's with her first family, so it's her, her husband, her best friend and his partner, her mother-in-law, and her baby Luke. They all look so happy. I have to put it away before I start crying on the pictures. I'm never going to have that. I left my husband. I'll probably never have children. I've lost my chance.
3 June 1643
I threw up again today and I'm so scared. Just a couple of days ago I was certain I have completely lost my chance to have children, and now I'm so terrified that I haven't. I don't know what I'd do if I was pregnant. I don't know if I can take care of a child the way I am now, and I don't think I could be a good mother anymore. And I don't know what my husband would do, especially if I have a son. He could come back and claim the child for his own, and he'd be perfectly within his rights to do so. He could take my baby from me. Even if he didn't, my child would be illegitimate, and I don't know if I want do that to them. It would make my child's life so much harder, and if they're stuck with me for a mother they won't need anything else making their life hard.
If I am pregnant I could also just…not be. I know how. Mama taught me, and she taught me that no one should ever have to have a baby they don't want, mostly for their sake but also for the child's. But what if this is my last chance? I don't know. I can hardly think. I just want to go to bed and sleep for a year. Maybe then I could think straight.
7 June 1643
I went to see Annes today to make sure she was still doing alright. She made shortbread again and so we sat down together to eat and talk. She likes to read philosophy, so I offered to bring her some books, since she has the money to rest up at the end of her pregnancy. That said, I don't think it's necessary to rest completely, no matter what my husband says. I'd know better than him. This is my world and these are the things I know.
But my goodness, being pregnant can be hard. I think anyone who wants to take some time to rest should be able to. In a better world, anyone who wanted to could take as much of their pregnancy off as they liked.
I should teach Kanaya. I said I would and then I didn't, because I was stupid and selfish. Well, what's one more person I've disappointed? I've got so many. I don't know if she'll still want me to teach her, since I failed so badly the first time, but I should at least offer.
I'm so tired.
10 June 1643
I was sick again today, and I think I felt my breasts aching. I've had so many aches and pains that it's been hard to pin down any specific one. But the pain has been fading lately, and today I noticed that nearly all the little aches were gone except for the ones in my chest.
I'm trying not to think about it. I'm worried that I'm pregnant, but I'm also worried that I'm just sick from stopping my medicine and somehow talking myself into thinking I'm pregnant. I was losing my mind living with my husband. Maybe I still am.
Sometimes I wonder, though. He lied to me so many times, so how can I be sure anything he said was true? How do I know that he didn't move my pens or throw out my notes?
Oh my goodness, what if he threw out my notes? What if I did tell him I was leaving, and I did write a note and leave it on his desk, and he lied to me? I can't think of any reason he would, but then, I can't think of any reason he'd do any of the other things he did. I don't understand why he would lie to me like that and keep me from talking to my sister. Didn't he want me to be happy? Didn't he understand how much my sister means to me? I don't understand.
13 June 1643
Kankri found me in the yard throwing up again today. He didn't seem to know what to do at first, but when I was done he came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder, very awkwardly.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.
I was all set to say no, because I don't want anyone to have to take care of me, but I also didn't feel quite ready to go back inside yet.
"Could you bring me some mint leaves?" I asked.
"Of course. Um, where would I find them?"
"My sister will know."
He nodded and brought me back some mint leave to chew on. It helped a little. I still felt pretty sick. All I wanted to do was lie there and feel terrible, but I didn't want to worry anyone.
"Are you sure you don't wish to tell your sister?"
"I'm positive. She shouldn't have to worry."
"What if she already is?"
"Pardon?"
"She might have noticed that you're not well and be worrying already, especially if she doesn't know what's wrong."
I hadn't thought about that, but he could be right. Kitty isn't stupid. It's entirely possible that she does already know, and is worried that I won't tell her. Maybe I should tell her. I don't know. I don't want to make her life harder.
15 June 1643
I woke up today and I just knew. I'm pregnant, and I don't know what to do. I have always wanted children, but this child…this child comes from a man who has done terrible things. Can I love this child? And even if I can, they have no father. How can I bring a child into this world knowing they'll suffer being illegitimate? I know it doesn't matter, but hardly anyone else does. I already left behind a comfortable, safe life for my children. How can I also subject them to irrational hatred from people who don't even know them?
I know how to not be pregnant anymore. My mother told me that no one should never have to give birth to a child they do not want, and it is better to know that now than to watch the child die slowly after they're born from hunger or neglect. I would never let my child suffer, but I don't know if I want them.
I could care for this little one. I am still the midwife, and I have my sister and my friends, and I can hunt, and my sister has been maintaining the garden. I'm just not sure I could look my baby in the eyes and say I love them without it being a lie.
19 June 1643
I don't have much time to choose. I have either keep the baby and do something drastic, or give up the baby and do something else drastic. The longer you wait to give up a child, the harder and more dangerous it is, and the more likely to fail. I keep going back and forth, between believing I can love my baby and fearing terribly that I can't. I think I still love my baby's father, but he was not kind to me. That particular tangle of feelings can't be simplified into love or not-love, not right now.
I could keep the baby. I've wanted children my whole life, and I'm not going to get together with another man anytime soon. I think that at the very least, when I hold my little one for the first time, I will love them. I think I already do love my baby, because sometimes the thought of giving them up hurts like dying. I could have a child like I've always wanted and raise them with love and be happy, and they'd never need to know what happened between me and their birth father.
I could also give up the baby. If it's a son, I fear what Kurloz might do to get him back. I am sick, and I think I always will be. Between the headaches and the deafness, can I raise a child? What sort of mother will I be when my mind is so scattered? And what if I can't love them? What if my baby is born and I hold them in my arms and I feel nothing? Worse, what if I hate them?
I don't know what to do. I feel so lost.
22 June 1643
All that time alone in the castle, I didn't talk to anyone, not really. I forgot I can talk to people here. And Kankri's right–Kitty's probably already worried, and at least this way she won't be left wondering. So today I made my sister a cup of tea and we sat down at the kitchen table and I told her.
"Kitty…I'm pregnant," I said.
"Oh," she said, like she wasn't sure what to say. "Do you want…do you want to be?"
"I don't know. I want children. I've always wanted children. But…I'm scared." I couldn't look her in the eye when I said, "I'm scared I won't be able to love my baby."
"Oh, Linny," she said, reaching out to take my hand.
"I don't have much time to decide," I said. "I have to choose soon, if I give up the baby or keep them. I don't want to try to end the pregnancy after three months."
"Of course," she said. "What…what do you need from me? Anything I can do to help, just let me know."
"I just need to talk to you. What do you think I should do?"
She didn't say anything for a long time, just stared at the table. "It's your body, and your life," she said. "If you don't want to have his child, I'll help you end the pregnancy. If you want this child, I'll help you give birth. I can't choose for you."
"I don't know if this is my last chance. I don't know if I'll ever marry again. I'm in no state of mind to go out and find another man. And I lost those babies I wanted, so what's to say I could ever carry a baby to term? But then…what if I can't do it? Kitty…I left you. How can I know if I'll be a good mother?"
"You did leave me," she said. "But you wouldn't do it again, right?"
"Of course not."
"Then that means you learned. I think you'd be an excellent mother. You learned from our mama, and she was the best."
"What if I don't love my baby?"
"You're already calling it your baby," Kitty said. "And I think you'll be able to love them, if you want the baby."
"I can't even hear. And my headaches!"
"You have help," she said. "It takes a village, doesn't it? Mama had Mr. Zahhak and his wife. I'm always here for you. Our friends will help, too." She paused. "I don't mean to talk you into having a baby. I just want it to be because you want to or don't want to, not because you think you wouldn't be able to do it."
"Thank you."
"Do you know what you want to do now?"
"I think so," I said. "Thanks for listening. I…I sort of forgot I can talk to people."
She looked at me, so sad I thought she'd cry. "You're my sister. You can always talk to me."
"I know. I think…I need to rest now."
"Of course. Just let me know what you need."
"Thank you," I said again.
I think I know what I want to do now. I want to have this baby. They come from a man who was cruel to me, but people don't have to be like their parents. I will love them and raise them kindly and they will be kind.
I don't want them to have to be illegitimate, though. I need to do something about that.
26 June 1643
I sat down with Kankri today, made him a cup of tea, and told him my idea.
"Kankri, I need to ask you a favor."
"Of course."
"Would you marry me?"
He choked on his tea. "I'm sorry?"
"If you'd like, I think it would be good for both of us if we got married."
He swallowed his tea and managed, "Why?"
"I'm pregnant. I need someone to be my baby's legal father. And you could keep living here, and as long as you agree to help out as you can I don't mind."
He choked again. "What?"
"I'm not asking you to be my child's father. I'm asking you to put your name down on paper so my child grows up with two legal parents."
He looked down at his cup and spoke to his shoes. "Meulin, I don't know how to tell you this, but I am not-I am not like most other men. There is something different about me, something wrong-"
"If you're talking about Cronus, I already know that," I said impatiently. "There's nothing wrong with you, I've no idea where you got that in your head."
I thought he was going to faint. "What?" he whispered. "Does everyone-oh, no-"
"No, no, I'm sorry. I can tell, but I don't think most other people can. Look, Kankri, I don't…I'm not sure I'll ever want another man. I don't want to be your wife like that. And if you don't want to do this, I understand, and I'll find someone else. I just…I need my child to be able to claim a father. I want a good life for my little one. You understand, right?"
He nodded seriously. "I do. You-you wouldn't mind? If I had a-a friend?"
"A lover? No, not at all. I'd rather stay in separate bedrooms. Perhaps marrying would even be an advantage, because if anyone was rude to you about Cronus, you could tell them you're married."
He blushed down to his neck. "I-alright. But…what if you want to marry someone else, someday?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I…I do not feel inclined to seek out another man right now. You can tell me if you don't want to," I said.
"I think it's a good idea," he said. "It's the least I can do for you."
"You don't owe me anything. Taking care of people is my work, and anyone who needs help is welcome in our home."
"I was…less than kind," he said, looking ashamed. "I treated your opinions and travails as less important than my own, and that was unfair of me. I suppose I never knew my mother and so I was unaware of the true burden women bear in society, but that's no excuse. I should have listened to you, and Porrim as well, when you were kind enough to teach me about the gulf between our experiences of the world, but I did not. And for that I apologize."
He may be kinder, but he's no less long-winded. "And you're forgiven. You can say no."
"No, I think it's a good idea," he said again, more confidently. "I'll go speak with the reverend tomorrow, if you're busy."
I could've cried with relief. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Thank you."
"I have to work on some sewing. Join me in the library?"
He nodded, and I worked on clothes for my baby as he practiced reading with one of the denser philosophy books. It's good to see him putting that brain of his to good use.
29 June 1643
Today was my second wedding day. It wasn't much of an event. I wore my wedding dress and put my hair up, but no carriage came for me. We invited our friends to the church, and had a little gathering together after, but it was a quiet, easy kind of event. I'm not up to a big party right now, anyways.
Everyone was there, even Damara, and with the candles burning and the food steaming, I felt like a part of them again. I was so scared they wouldn't take me back, and here they are, coming to my wedding (even if it's not a normal wedding). Latula gave me a big hug and told me congratulations, and even promised to look after my child once they're born. Porrim gifted me a book of sewing patterns for baby clothes and told me she was glad I was home. Even Damara touched my hand and wished me all the happiness in the world, in her quiet way.
Horuss stayed a little after everyone had left and asked, "How are you doing?"
"I'm getting by."
"I want you to know…as you have promised to care for my child, I promise to care for yours." He took my hand in both of his and said, "You have suffered immensely, and I want you to know that you can always turn to me and my family for assistance."
"Thank you," I said. "That means a lot to me."
"You're welcome. You are my dear friend."
"And you're mine. I–I'm sorry for what I said–"
"I know you are," he said. "You need not say it again. You're forgiven. Get some rest. Pregnancy is tiring–or at least, Annes is often tired."
"Yes, it is."
"Have a good night," he said, giving my hands one more squeeze.
"You too," I said, and waved as he left.
Once again, I'm a married woman with a baby on the way. It's funny how different it feels this different time.